Smoke Gets in Your Eyes
by sushiroll13
Summary: After a string of nightmares about a mysterious woman named Naomi, prayers are not enough for Dean anymore. He is willing to take drastic steps to keep his angel by his side. I began writing this before Goodbye Stranger; take it from that perspective. Destiel. Major character death.
1. Chapter 1

_"Yet today, my love has flown away_

_I am without my love"_

* * *

The world is flashes of light. Screams of pain. And a word. No, a name.

Naomi.

"What did I just do?"

"You killed a traitor."

"Samandriel was good. And I was trying to atone for-"

Abruptly, a woman's face appears. Who is she? Is this Naomi? Dean groaned and thrashed about in his bed, his sleeping mind attempting to process the images within. The voices. One, the man's, was so familiar. Too familiar. The woman's, not so much.

The face fades away, replaced with nothing but blackness and static. Dean felt as though the dream had been garbled, distorted at some points. As if a file had been corrupted somewhere in his brain. Or perhaps as if a connection was lost before all the information could get through. Dean knew, somewhere in his gut, that these images, these dreams, were not his. That they belonged to someone else. Maybe Cas? Was this the angel version of a Vulcan mind meld? Cas might not understand the reference, but he probably grasped the concept behind it.

* * *

The next night, more of the same. Dean twitched in his sleep as the woman's voice sounded once again in his head.

"You killed a traitor."

"Samandriel was good. And I was trying to atone for-"

Some small part of Dean's subconscious expected to wake up after this. After all, this is where the dream had always ended before. But there was no respite to be had as the dream dragged mercilessly on.

"Samandriel was broken. He revealed the existence of what I would die to protect—what any of us would die to protect. The angel tablet, Castiel. Crowley knows."

Dean suddenly opened his eyes, and a look of stark realization crossed his face.

Cas? That voice. That was Cas.

_"How could I forget his voice?"_ Dean thought to himself, ashamed. Another thought struck him, more painful than the first.

_"Can I even remember his face?"_

Pieces of the angel floated in Dean's brain. His ever-present trenchcoat. His deep blue eyes. But as Dean strained to put a complete image of Castiel's face in his mind, he realized that it just wouldn't come. But that woman's face, that was burned into his head for the time being. Dean wasn't afraid of many things, but he had a feeling that he had every reason to be afraid of her. Was she the reason Cas had cowered in fear?

The worst part of it was, Dean was fairly sure there was not a single picture of Castiel in existence, at least not in his possession. The group shot they had taken with Ellen, Jo, and Bobby had been torched long ago.

Guilt washed over Dean as he rolled over in bed, searching his mind frantically for any image of the angel's face. He smacked his head against the headboard, knocking an old cigar box onto his pillow. Frustrated, Dean grabbed the box, fully intending to fling it across the room in his frustration.

"Son of a bi-"

The box collapsed in Dean's grip before he could let it fly, and he stopped in mid-yell as fake IDs fluttered out onto his sheets. And there it was, at the top of the pile. Castiel's fake FBI laminate. Dean picked it up, thinking back on the angel's first bumbling attempt at being a hunter. Eddie Moscone. Ridiculous.

A small smile formed on Dean's lips as he realized what he needed to do.


	2. Chapter 2

_"When your heart's on fire, you must realize_

_Smoke gets in your eyes"_

* * *

Dean figured that if the ritual worked for Balthazar, it would work for Cas. An angel is an angel is an angel, right? He gathered the components together, grabbed a jug of holy oil out of the trunk of the Impala, and got to work.

* * *

"... SEE AH-EFF-FAH ZOAD-EE-ZOAD-OH-PEH!" Dean bellowed into the emptiness of the room as he finished the ritual.

Hands shaking, Dean finished the ritual and waited. Waited. And waited some more. The only thing that calmed him was the thought that Cas had kept him waiting many, many times before.

"Hell, he's kept me waiting since the day we met," Dean muttered to himself, thinking back on his first encounter with the trenchcoat-clad angel, in a rickety old barn in the middle of nowhere. Tears stung his eyes as he reflected on prayer upon unanswered prayer, words left unspoken that he would speak in a heartbeat if only he heard—

The swift sound of fluttering wings echoed in the near empty room of the compound. All thought left Dean's mind as he looked up and took in the sight of the long-lost angel. _His_ angel.

"Cas—," he barely managed to choke out.

Castiel looked around the room in bewilderment until his eyes settled on his charge.

"Hello, Dean."

The familiar phrase was music to Dean's ears, yet the sound of it was heartbreaking because of the time it had taken for those words to finally reach him again.

"Wh-where have you brought me? How did you reach me?"

"Well, I kinda had to cheat a little."

Shame crept across Dean's face as he stepped aside to reveal the table on which his ritual materials rested. He braced himself for the wave of holy fury he was sure would follow as Castiel stared intently at the bowl in the center of the table. When he finally spoke, it was with an air of pride in his friend.

"Leave it to Dean Winchester to drag me here by any means necessary," Cas chuckled, though his smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

Dean allowed himself a small grin that quickly faded as he took a closer look at the angel standing before him. The bags beneath his eyes—those hollow, hunted eyes—were darker than Dean had ever seen them. It filled him with a sense of dread that he seldom felt. That name played on the edges of his mind again. Naomi.

"Who?" Cas questioned.

Dean started, realizing that he had spoken the offending name aloud.

"Naomi," he repeated. "Who is she?"

Cas simply stared at Dean, puzzled. That name. He had heard the name before, from Samandriel. But Castiel's mind was walled off from its owner. Naomi's power was such that the angel was prevented from knowing the true nature of his captor's... training.

* * *

_"You need to move beyond these ridiculous human-bred emotions, Castiel!" the Woman snips as she stands towering above her pupil. "He's one man. You have smitten countless hundreds of our brothers and sisters. Surely you can kill one man."_

_Castiel crouches on the smooth tile floor of the seemingly endless warehouse, doubled over and nauseous. After the fifteenth Dean today, on this first of the many days to follow, he would have given anything to lay down and die along with the carbon copies of the man he was once sent to save. He is wrecked, clothes slick with blood from the countless hours of slaughter. The Deans each beg and plead with him, nothing quelling their pleas. Nothing, that is, except the blood that chokes them, filling their throats as they lay bleeding on the hard, sterile floor. Every word from every Dean is a piercing wound to Castiel's too-big heart. He runs them all through with his angel blade, the Woman tightly gripping his arm and press-ganging him through the motions for as many kills as it takes for Castiel to do it himself._

_"...but he is the Righteous Man...," Castiel chokes as bile rises to the edge of his throat._

_The Woman visibly bristles as she hauls her pupil to his feet._

_"Nothing righteous has ever come from that disaster of a man. The quicker you learn that, the easier your lessons will become."_

_And she is gone. The lights fade to a dimness that strains Castiel's eyes. _

_And Dean #16 is hiding in the shadows, ripe for demise._

* * *

"...tiel! Earth to Castiel!"

At the sound of his name, Cas snapped to attention, the blank expression that he adopted startling Dean. The pull of a far stronger power than Castiel's threatened to wrench the newly-freed angel from the safety of the compound.

"Snap out of it, man! You gotta stay with me, Cas!"

"My apologies, Dean. I'm having trouble focusing," Castiel explained, shaking his head as if to wake himself from a trance. "I feel as though I'm being pulled away from here. ...Away from you." The angel's eyes were fixed to the floor as he spoke, and he noticed that some bits of that floor had more of a sheen to them than others. Holy oil. He began to step forward.

"Lucky for you, I got a way to keep you here," Dean softly growled.

The smell of the holy oil prickled Castiel's nose. Before he could speak, Dean dropped the lighter. A ring of fire surrounded the angel, trapping him. Cas stepped back quickly to avoid the rising flames that threaten to set his vessel's clothes aflame.

Dean hadn't wanted it to come to this. To have to sequester his closest friend using the one method he knew would force him to stay put. But this was the way it had to be. Dean couldn't handle another day of empty, unanswered prayers whispered in the night. He could no long bear the thought of being without Castiel.

His angel.

His guardian.

His friend.


	3. Chapter 3

_"So I smile and say, when a lovely flame dies_

_Smoke gets in your eyes"_

* * *

They stood there, hunter and angel. Stood in that empty room in that secret compound in a random little town in Kansas. Dean leaned against the table on which his ritual materials rested, his head bowed. Despite his outward calm, his mind was racing to reorganize itself after the painful decision he had just made. Was this the ultimate betrayal of his friendship with Cas? He had the angel trapped, pinned like a bug in a display case. But Cas hadn't been pissed about the ritual that dragged him down here. Hell, he had even praised Dean for his intuition. This was different, though. The ritual couldn't kill Cas, but the fire enwreathing him certainly could.

Hearing a shuffling sound, Dean raised his head and opened his weary eyes. A look of particular unease crossed Castiel's face, his body shifting closer to the forefront of the fiery ring. Tired and confused, Dean assumed the worst, that Castiel was trying to leave once again.

"I'm sick of you running off on us, Cas! Running off on me!" an exasperated Dean shouted.

"I'm not trying to leave! Something is pulling me, Dean!"

Pulling?

Cas had mentioned feeling pulled, but Dean had figured it was some sort of mental thing, like an angel brain link. But the pull, it seemed, had become more physical in its manifestation, and it was yanking Castiel dangerously close to the holy flames. Fear painted the angel's features as he struggled to win back control of his vessel. He inched closer and closer to the edge, dress shoes squeaking and scuffing the floor and he was dragged forward.

"Cas, your coat!" Dean roared as the hem of the dirty trenchcoat brushed against the fire. After months of sitting in the trunk of the Impala, the coat had soaked up its fair share of flammable fluids. Yet the speed at which Castiel's trenchcoat caught fire was nonetheless astounding.

A sort of dullness had set into Castiel's eyes. It appeared that he was unaware that his coat was on fire. Dean shouted at the angel, tried to stir him from his reverie, but to no avail. After a final attempt to get Castiel's attention, Dean screwed up his courage and dropped into a runner's stance.

Nothing had been written-at least, nothing that he had found-about humans crossing a ring of holy fire, but Dean felt like the lore was on his side. He took a flying leap over the ring of fire, all thought of his own safety having gone from his mind.

"Shit—" Dean hissed as he toppled into Cas, who snapped back to reality, looking as though his eyes were about to pop out of their sockets.

In desperation, Dean worked to beat out the flames that were crawling up the sides of the trenchcoat. The once-quiet room reverberated with the shrill, inhuman shrieks of an angel in the most unholy pain. Chest heaving, Castiel clung to Dean once the fire had been put out.

For the moment, the pull had ceased. And in that moment, Dean finally said the words he had always pushed so hastily away. The time for chick flick moments had finally arrived.

"I can't have you leavin' on me again. Me and Sam, we need you down here. I... _I_ need you." Dean's eyes dropped to the floor, but he didn't look away for long. Castiel lifted Dean's chin, forcing the hunter to face him as he responded.

"I know, Dean. Please believe me when I say that the last thing I want is to be without you once again."

His hyperventilating having ceased, Cas dropped his arms to his sides, fingers playing at the scorched rags that his coat had been reduced to. There was a sense of peace between Dean and his angel as they stood together, encircled by holy fire. Castiel gazed into Dean's eyes, his own eyes tinged with the hint of an unspoken question. Dean's expression brightened as he gave the angel the smallest of nods, stepping closer and eliminating any inkling of personal space.

The feel of sandpaper stubble was unusual against Dean's cheek, but not at all unpleasant. Time and time again, he had pictured this moment, followed by immediately shoving that picture into the back of his mind. _Not this time_, Dean thought to himself as he pressed closer to Castiel, capturing the wayward angel's lips with his own. No sound broke the pure silence of the kiss, save for the crackle of the ensuing fire.

Cas abruptly broke away from the kiss as he felt the pull dragging him forward once again. Shaken from those fleeting moments of blank-mindedness, Dean planted his feet and pushed back against Castiel, trying his damndest to keep the both of them away from the flames.

"Dean! Let me go!" Castiel cried out as he squirmed against Dean's grasp. But Dean only gripped him tighter, determined to raise the angel from what was certain to be his own personal perdition.

The pull dragged Dean and Castiel toward the flame, close enough that the heat and smoke stung their eyes.

Both of them knew what was next to come. Curiously, Dean felt nothing as his clothes began to burn, but for Cas, the world was nothing but white-hot pain. The flames caressed Dean's boots and jeans-clad legs as hunter and angel were engulfed in the fire. A shudder of pleasure mixed with blinding pain ripped through Castiel's vessel, his wings gaining corporeal form, his feathers alight with flame. Sensing that Castiel would soon begin to scream again, Dean grabbed the angel by his shoulders and crushed their lips together, suppressing his inevitable wails.

He wasn't sure if it was the pull or if the angel had intentionally pressed himself tighter still to his hunter, but in those final moments, Dean felt as though they were impossibly close. His final thoughts were fleeting images of the Impala, of his baby bro, of the angel he had sworn to protect. They had died together before, he and Cas. God willing, they would come back, fight more big bads, die together again.

* * *

A deafening bluster of wings filled the room as Naomi and her band of angels landed, surrounding the ring of holy fire with no way to intervene. They watched, fury in their eyes, as their brother and his dearest friend succumbed to the blaze.

Two bodies became one as they fell to ashes.

Two bright lights escaped the room in a streak of pure white and electric blue.

Two friends would never again be parted.

* * *

Sobs wracking his large form, Sam collected the pile of ash and bone, all that remained of Dean and Castiel.

Remains.

All that Sam could do was pack those remains up in a shoebox and wait for the next big miracle.

* * *

_"They, said some day you'll find_

_All who love are blind _

_When you heart's on fire _

_You must realize_

_Smoke gets in your eyes."_


End file.
